


Karkat ==> Dream

by HighlyOpinionatedNerd



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dream Bubbles, I don't think I could have made that work, I haven't leveled up enough yet, Mild descriptions of violence, but they're not in a serious relationship yet, by the way it's not in second person, hope you enjoy!, implied davekat - Freeform, it's Karkat what did you expect?, profanity warning, the other lowblood ancestors are in it too but not for long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 10:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighlyOpinionatedNerd/pseuds/HighlyOpinionatedNerd
Summary: While aboard the Meteor, Karkat has an unusual dream. In it, he speaks to the Signless, who pushes him to examine some of his deepest fears and confront his future.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This little oneshot was partially inspired by the song The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel.

Karkat hated sleeping in the Furthest Ring. Sleep meant dreaming, and dreams in this weird, horrible, blank expanse of space were a huge pain to deal with. Wandering through a confused mashup of other people’s memories, running into strange, alternate versions of his friends, or (even worse) their dancestors. It always left him feeling irritated and slightly overwhelmed. Unless he happened to run into Kankri- those encounters were way more than just slightly overwhelming. He often woke up feeling more drained than when he had fallen asleep.

He tried to stay awake as long as possible. He spent hours staring at his computer screen, trying to keep his brain occupied by watching a movie or working on some code that was now utterly meaningless. Inevitably he collapsed, exhausted. And they were always right there waiting for him.

But as bad as the dream bubbles were, they weren’t even the worst thing. Of course they weren’t; it always had to be something, didn’t it? That was just the way his life worked.

Sometimes he had other dreams. Real dreams, visions that he couldn’t interact with. No, dream was the wrong word...These were nightmares.

Tonight was one of those nights. One minute he was sitting in what passed for his room on the meteor, and the next he was standing alone on a wide, windswept plain at twilight. The smell of things burning was everywhere, and the whole landscape appeared deserted. Everything was silent.

He started walking, away from the black columns of smoke in the distance. What else was there to do? This was how it always was. Scenes of blood and destruction and fires raging uncontrolled across the surface of Alternia. He’d grown accustomed to seeing it, but these dreams never failed to thoroughly freak him out. Even though he knew it was just a dream, knew it even when it was happening around him, it always felt so real.

After the first few times, he had realized what it was that he was seeing over and over: the Caste Wars. A time when lowbloods had been hunted ruthlessly by agents of Her Imperious Condescension in her quest for absolute domination. 

Everyone knew the history of the Empress’ wars. But they had happened sweeps and sweeps ago, and hardly anyone ever gave them much thought. Vriska was fascinated by the events of the time, yes, but only because of her obsession with her freaky pirate ancestor. 

Karkat had thought about these wars practically every day. The scenes around him contained some of his oldest and deepest fears brought to life. He hated being here. 

There were woods up ahead. Every time he had this dream, no matter which direction he walked, he always eventually found himself back at the woods.  
As he walked, his steps making no noise even when he entered the woods and began walking across the dense underbrush, he angrily wondered for the umpteenth time why this was happening to him. None of the others on the meteor had experienced such dreams, that he was sure of. Why was he being singled out like this?

If he was being completely honest with himself, he thought he knew. Back in the days he’d spent cooped up in his hive on Alternia, with only his crabby lusus for company, he’d hardly ever gone outside, not wanting anyone to get suspicious of him for dressing in grey. He’d only ever spoken to any of his friends online. Terezi had asked him several times where he fell on the hemospectrum, and he’d always snapped defensively at her for doing so.

Now that Alternia was gone, there wasn’t really a functioning hemospectrum. But that fear was still a part of him, lingering just beneath the surface. It had taken a long time for him to admit that to himself. But it was true: he was still afraid of his friends judging him. They might abandon him if they found out, or kill him.

Karkat had never completed the denizen’s quest on his planet when he entered the medium. He’d never actually been forced to confront his fears, or proven himself worthy to be the Knight of Blood. He couldn’t help but feel that these nightmares were the game’s way of getting back at him for that.

He paused when he heard voices up ahead. He knew what was coming next and he didn’t want to go through the whole thing again. But he was afraid that the dream would never end if he didn’t move, so after a moment he pushed aside one last branch and entered the clearing.

There were bodies on the ground. A bronze-blood woman, two lime-blooded men, and a young troll girl with golden blood splattered all over her face and matted in her hair. And there were the soldiers, on the other side of the clearing, both of them decked out in purple.

“Whew,” said they younger soldier, wiping an arm across his face, “that was unexpected.”

“Yeah, I know.” The older purple-blood was cleaning his weapon on the grass. “Who’d have thought that a little wriggler like her actually had that much control over her powers?”

“Little psychic bitch,” the younger one said. He spat on the ground in the yellow-blooded girl’s direction.

Every time he had this dream they always said exactly the same things, and it always struck him how unaffected they were. As if they hadn’t just murdered four people, one of them a child. It infuriated him beyond words.

“How many more do you think we’ll have to get rid of before they get the message?” the first soldier asked.

His older partner shrugged. His horns had sharp points that were curled forward, giving him a rather sinister appearance. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We have our orders. If the Grand Highblood wants us to hunt down every last one of these lowlives, then that’s what we’ll do, no matter how long it takes.”

“You’re right, of course. I just wish we could have the chance to join the fleet before it launches.”

“Now that truly would be an honor. I just hope wherever they eventually land, the locals put up more of a fight than the scum we have to deal with!”

They both laughed freely, their eyes glittering with undisguised bloodlust. 

“Shut up,” Karkat said. Even though he had witnessed all of this so many times before, something inside him had finally snapped. Perhaps it was the memory of seeing those same eyes on his former moirail, or the thought of Sollux lying bleeding in his arms, or the idea that Feferi, who had wanted to change all this, was dead. Perhaps he was finally ready to confront the fear that he had harbored for so long.

“Shut up!” he said again, louder this time. It didn’t matter why. All that mattered was that he was livid, and he needed to do something about it or he would explode.

The soldiers didn’t react, of course. They couldn’t see or hear him. Following the previously established script, they began moving towards the bodies, readying their knives to cut the horns off their victims as proof of their kills.

Karkat left the edge of the clearing and placed himself between the highblood agents and the fallen renegades. “Leave them alone. They aren’t trophies. They were fucking people! They had their own lives, and they didn’t ask to be born as lowbloods,” he shouted. 

Karkat was so angry that he felt sick. He was angry with himself for hiding behind his grey anonymity for so long. His balled fists were shaking by his sides. He was angry at the Condesce for waging her wars and making him an outcast. Tears were welling in his eyes, obscuring his vision. He was angry that Kankri had the nerve to walk around in that red sweater as if he was actually ok with being a mutant. He was so angry that he was gasping for breath.

“They didn’t ask for this,” he repeated. “I didn’t ask for this! The color of your blood doesn’t make you better than anyone else, you miserable piss sacks. And if anyone should know that, it’s me! I’ve been through every different kind of hell since we started this game, and I’ve seen shit that would make you nooksuckers turn and run for the hills. I didn’t fucking survive all that just to keep having the same existential torture every night. Do you hear me? I am DONE with this, so you’d better BACK THE FUCK UP!”

A few steps from him, the soldiers actually stopped, looking surprised. Karkat drew back a bit, just as surprised. This had never happened before. For a moment he thought that they had actually heard him, but then he realized that they weren’t looking at him, but behind him.

He spun around, automatically dropping into a defensive stance. Another figure had entered the clearing, so stealthily that no one had noticed her until she was mere feet from them. She was crouched down by the bodies on the ground, checking them for any signs of life. Finding none, she stood.

At her full height, she wasn’t much taller than Karkat, but she radiated power. Her long hair was wild, her eyes sharp and calculating. Every movement was fluid and somehow dangerous. All Karkat’s instincts were shouting ‘predator!’ but he held his ground, not wanting to miss what happened next. 

The highblood soldiers fumbled for their weapons. “It’s her!” one of them shouted, fear in his voice.

The woman, an olive-blood, snarled at them. “Four dead,” she called, not taking her eyes from the soldiers. “Two agents. Should I kill them?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” came an answering voice from the trees beyond the clearing. For one confused and shocked moment, Karkat was sure it was Kankri’s voice.

But it wasn’t. Three more figures emerged into the clearing, two men and a woman. Karkat guessed that they had been hiding in the trees, waiting for the olive woman to give them the signal that it was safe to come out.

The troll who had spoken was wearing a cloak, the hood of which obscured most of his face in shadow. His companions were a very tall, thin yellow-blood and a dignified, emerald-blooded woman.

Suddenly a lot more was making sense to Karkat.

The Signless raised his hands, palms out, and approached the soldiers slowly. “No need to be afraid,” he said. “We just want t o talk, that’s all.”

“W-we don’t have nothing to say to mutant trash like you!” stammered the younger guard. “We’re going to bring you in for Her Majesty!” His obvious terror made him sound very unconvincing. 

“No you’re not.” Some part of Karkat wondered how he could be so calm. “You don’t have to go back to her army at all, if you don’t want. Come with us, and you won’t have to fight anymore. Let us help you.”

The second soldier finally snapped himself out of his temporary paralysis. “Never!” he shouted, suddenly lunging forward with his knife outstretched towards the casteless peacemaker. 

The Disciple intercepted him before he even made it halfway to the Signless. In a flash, she had the soldier on the ground, the knife now in her hand and pointed at his throat.

The other soldier let out a panicked yell and turned to run. Without even raising a hand, the Psionic froze him in place with his powers. For a moment, no one in the clearing moved or even seemed to breathe. The silence was so heavy that it could have crushed them all, Karkat included.

“Enough,” the Signless said, still in that ridiculously calm voice. “We will let you go,” he told the soldiers. “But you would do well to remember that I offered you my help. Next time we meet, you will not be so lucky.”

The Disciple and the Psionic released their respective holds on the purple-bloods, who left the clearing running as fast as they could. “We should have killed them,” muttered the Disciple.

“Violence answered with more violence would only prolong the suffering of everyone on this planet,” the Dolorosa said. Her voice was low and somehow soothing. “We must be the ones to break the cycle, you know that.”

“Those purple clowns don’t believe in peace,” the Psionic said quietly. He was staring at the young yellow-blooded girl on the ground. “This doesn’t end until either we are dead or they are.” 

“It doesn’t have to come to that.” The Signless sighed wearily, lifting his head to gaze at the darkening sky. The moons were just beginning to rise on the horizon. If not for the dark smoke obscuring the emerging stars, it would have been a beautiful night. “I know we can make more of a difference than that,” he said, so quietly that Karkat almost didn’t hear him.

“It’s getting late. We’d better be heading back to the camp,” the Dolorosa suggested.

One by one they turned back the way they had come and headed out of the clearing. The Signless stopped for one last look back at the bodies on the ground. Then he looked up, directly at his descendent.

“Hello Karkat,” he said.

Karkat’s jaw fell open. “What? You...you can see me? This is a dream. How are you-”

“Did you really think you could have a normal dream out here?” the Signless asked wryly. He reached up and removed his hood. His eyes were dark shadowed, but alert. Up close, it was like looking in a mirror. 

“How do you know that,” Karkat demanded. “You died on Alternia, there’s no way you should know about the game. Or me either, for that matter.”

He shrugged slightly. “Part of you is me, Karkat. Kankri, too. When you two met, there was enough of me to reach out to you. That’s why you’ve been seeing this same scene over and over. But you were rejecting me. That’s why you never saw the whole thing until tonight.” The corner of his mouth turned up, producing a faint ghost of a smile. “Thank you for finally letting me in.”

Karkat shook his head. “None of that makes any sense. In fact, that explanation you just gave me makes less sense than any explanation I’ve heard in a long fucking time, and that means a lot considering what I’ve been through with this game and the humans and all these dream bubbles.”

“I know. But what do you want me to say about it?”

“Nothing. I want you to tell me what you want from me.”

There were no longer woods surrounding them. They were back on the plain, a silent breeze rustling their hair and clothing, the sky endless above their heads.

“I want you to learn from my mistakes, Karkat,” the Signless said quietly. 

Karkat snorted. “Mistakes? I was taught that the only mistake the great Signless ever made was getting himself caught.”

“Fuck you,” he snapped, then took a deep breath to calm himself. “I made tons of mistakes. For example, I didn’t listen to my friends enough. They warned me that I was overestimating the highbloods’ capacity for decency, and they were right. I thought I knew what was right, and I was so convinced that I could make it happen that I never took time to listen to them. And it got them killed. Sound familiar?”

Karkat opened his mouth to retort, but then closed it again. His ancestor was right. That did sound a lot like something he’d done. 

“The Disciple, and the Psionic,” he said instead. “If Nepeta and Sollux had lived, they could have been like them, huh?”

“In another life, yes. They could have been.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my communication skills aren’t exactly the best. All my attempts to work things out with my friends usually blow up in my face.”

“Well, I can’t help you there. You’ve just gotta keep trying. And another thing, I know that you still blame yourself for most of the things that went wrong in the game. And in the humans’ game. You’ve gotta stop that.” 

“Excuse me, but where the fuck did say that any of that shit was my fault?” Karkat asked indignantly, taken aback by the sudden turn in the conversation.

“I’m in your head, remember? Don’t get mad at me just because you’re in denial about your own fucking feelings.”

The lines of the grass they were standing on had started to blur together. A white haze began creeping into the corners of Karkat’s vision, slowly swallowing up the Alternian landscape around them.

“I’m going to wake up soon,” Karkat said aloud. “Will I ever have this dream again?”

“Probably not. I don’t think there’s enough of me left.” The Signless didn’t seem at all concerned with his impending erasure from existence. “Do me a favor and don’t be so hard on Kankri, when you see him. His soul’s been stuck in this place for a long time, and he’s had it just as tough as you.”

“No promises,” Karkat grumbled. 

The whiteness had totally surrounded them now, so that they were floating alone in a silent, blank expanse.

“I hope you can win this game,” the Signless said. As he spoke, the white began to creep into his eyes.

“I will,” Karkat replied fervently. His earlier anger had solidified into firm determination. “We will, my friends and I together. And when we do, we’ll build a peaceful world, where no one like us has to fight to survive. I promise.”

The Signless grinned, the most emotion Karkat had yet seen him show. “That’s more like it, kid,” he said.

Suddenly the wind returned, with a loud roar that split the white silence like a lightning strike. The ghost of the Signless was blown away into nothing, and Karkat woke up in his room.

He’d fallen asleep at his makeshift desk, with his head on his arms. Who knew how long he’d been out- his back and shoulders were cramped and complaining. 

“Hey Karkat, you up?” came Dave’s voice from down the hallway. A moment later the human stuck his head in the doorway. “Hey dude, Kanaya told me to come tell you that Rose actually managed to alchemize some decent food for once.”

“Ok, uh...I’ll be right there.” Dave nodded and turned to leave. “Hey, wait a minute,” Karkat called after him on impulse.

“What’s up?” Dave asked, looking back over his shoulder. His soft, blond, human hair shifted across his forehead. Karkat immediately regretted calling him back, but the words of his ancestor telling him to trust his friends echoed in his mind, forcing him to speak.

“Do you remember when we talked about the troll caste system?”

“Yeah. You lectured me about it for like an hour. I said it sounded stupid and you said, ‘how is it stupid for everyone to be born knowing what their place in society is? I suppose you think it’s better for everyone to waste time trying to figure it out, the way they did it on your planet?’”

Karkat cleared his throat indignantly, refusing to acknowledge Dave’s ridiculous impression of him. “Well, um. I just wanted to let you know that you were right,” he said in a rush. “It was stupid. It was the stupidest fucking system in the universe, and because of it I would’ve been either outcast or killed if I’d ever told anyone about the color of my blood.”

Dave looked surprised. Or at least, Karkat thought he did. It was hard enough for him to figure out human facial expressions when they weren’t wearing dumb tinted glasses.

“Woah,” Dave said. “Dude, what the hell? What about what you said about everyone having a place, and all that?”

“I lied. Everyone has a place… except me. I’m casteless.”

“Y’know, it’s actually pretty cool that you managed to pull that charade off for as long as you did,” Dave said, and Karkat was slightly taken aback to hear amusement in his voice. “You survived how long in a hostile environment like that? Damn, son, you’d make a great spy.”

“You’re not...mad?”

“Why would I be mad? That you didn’t tell me? I don’t care man, it’s not my creepy rainbow-blood-spectrum.” He cocked his head slightly. “Where’s all this coming from, anyway?”

“Nowhere, I just, you know. It was time for me to tell someone.”

“Good enough for me, I guess. Just out of curiosity here, but what color isn’t on the spectrum? You don’t actually have grey blood, do you? I mean not that that wouldn’t be cool, but-”

“No, I don’t have grey blood, you asshole. It’s red.”

“Waitaminute, waitaminute. Are you telling me that trolls don’t think red is part of the rainbow?!”

“Burgundy is part of the spectrum, Strider. Red blood is mutant blood.”

“That sounds like the brainwashed word for it.”

“Well, what would you call it?”

“Normal. I have red blood.”

This was news to Karkat. “I thought humans didn’t have a hemospectrum.”

“We don’t. All of us have red blood. I just use red on pesterchum cause it looks cool.” Dave shrugged. “C’mon, the food’ll get cold if we stand here much longer.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Karkat followed him out of the room and through the winding halls towards Rose’s alchemizer. It was strange; the only other ones who knew about his blood were the Jack from their session and Terezi, neither of whom he’d told on purpose. But now that he had actually confessed his secret to Dave, he felt somehow... better. Better than he had in a long time. 

Maybe the Signless had had a point after all. Karkat didn’t think he was ready to talk to Kanaya about it yet, but he would be ready eventually. She’d probably be ok with it. One day, he mused, maybe he would see her as dignified and strong as the Dolorosa.

The first step had been taken. The rest would come, in time.

He’d broken the silence of the dream.

**Author's Note:**

> I think that part of the beauty of Homestuck is that it can be almost anything you want it to be. I also think of the Signless as a martyr, but by no means a saint. Karkat struggled a lot with self-loathing, and I don't think anyone else on the Meteor really understood the degree of how bad it was? Or how badly his past haunted him, either. So I just wanted somehow for someone to show him that there are ways to get past that. I hope you liked it, thanks for reading!


End file.
